PS 




LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 

%{r — ^mm^ I'J — 

UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



SONNETS IN SHADOW. 



Sonnets in Shadow. 



/ 

ARLO BATES. 



BOSTON: 
ROBERTS BROTHERS. 

1887. 




Copyright, 1887, 
Bv Roberts Brothers. 



Stnibtrsila P«s»: 
John Wilson and Son, Cambridge. 



H. L. V. B. 



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5c. 



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Ti/fOST lives are like or tree or shrub or weedy 
And slow or swift to fiower and fruitage grow j 
Or, broken ere their prime, forlornly show 
But blighted bud, promise of fruit or seed. 

Not so was thine, nor such excuse did need. 
Thy life was like a crystal, perfect so 
Whene''er growth ended. Time could but bestow 

More space to prove worth still by newer deed. 

Like a rare gem where richest star fires play, 

Flashing a hundred tinted flames, which yet 
Is white and lucent as the drop which day 

With its first burning sunbeam touches, set 

Upon the tip of some fresh hawthorn spray, — 
Such was thy life ; so rich, so pure alway. 



//. 



/1-^D yet not so; since cold the reddest fire 
Ever from diamond or dew-drop burned j 
While what sweet warmth and ardor are intirned 
Where thou art laid, might tell nor pen nor lyre. 

One sits by his lone hearth, atid sees mount higher 
The flame toward which of old two faces turtted; 
Most like it is the spirit which sojourned 

Awhile beside it. When it shall expire, 

To what cold dust its cinders fall atnain. 

What cheer and sense of home while it endure ; 
What desolation waiting on its wane! 

How perfect joy thy presence did inspire ^ 

How hopeless life without thee, and how vain; 
The flame once sped, the ashes are so poor! 



SONNETS IN SHADOW. 



I. 



I. 



A FTER fate smites, the heart at first is dumb, 
"^^- And neither feels nor can believe its woe. 

Then past the torpid soul the gray days go, 
And lay their curious fingers, chill and numb, 

Upon its wounds, till pain has reached its sum, 
And the soul cries in agony ; while slow 
And unreal as the shapes that visions show 

The stealthy days glide on, until is come 

Some dreadful morn that with its mocking sneer 

Gives full assurance, and the spirit there 
Yields up at last even the right to fear. 

No more it recks if hfe be foul or fair. 

Or cries, " This cannot be ! " but sitteth drear, 
Owning, " It is ! " calm in its blank despair. 



SONNETS IN SHADOW. 



n. 



T ITTLE by little, as some down-trod weed 
*~^ Leaf after leaf lifts painfully again, 

Does life renew its uses. Though remain 
Desire nor hope, though every heart-wound bleed, 

Nature's high law no mortal may impede 
In its remorseless working. Wholly vain 
Protest or strife ; we to obey are fain. 

Slaves of strong destiny in thought and deed. 

As those whom destiny compels, we take 

One after one all life's old duties up ; 
Its cares and fears, its terror and its ache ; 

Even its joys, though each, an empty cup 
Where once was wine, but serves the thought 
to wake 
Of draught divine we once did from it sup. 



SONNETS IN SHADOW. 



II. 



TXTHAT is this monstrous thing called death? 
^ ^ . What plea 
Within the universe can justify 
Its presence ? How can even one man die 

Nor yet the world to utter ruin be 

Hurled instantly? Creatures of nothing, we 
Raise all our outraged souls in one fierce cry 
Against such wrong ; defiant, lift on high 

Our empty arms, that men and gods may see 

What has befallen ! Though most impotent 

Our protest be ; though all the powers vvliose hate 
Still wreaks itself on hapless man be bent 

To crush our hearts with woes unmitigate, 

For justice will we clamor, vehement, 
Against this crime unspeakable of fate ! 



SONNETS IN SHADOW. 



T T 7AS it for this that love was given man, 
' * As to the tortured wretch they would not kill, 
Stretched on the rack, to keep him living still 
Inquisitors dole scanty drops ? The plan 

Infernal craft devised, lest when to ban 
By death it sought, it bless against its will ! 
Were love unknown, who could find death an ill, 

Or fail to bless the shortening of life's span? 

As wind-dried leaves crushed in a giant hand 

Our hearts are broken by malignant fate. 
The spring of love that made them once expand 

But nourished them to feed immortal hate. 

Oh, woe, that even love was only planned 
To serve a cruelty insatiate ! 



SONNETS IN SHADOW. 



III. 



f~\ F what avail is it with death to chide ? 

^-^ Can deepest anguish move the stubborn fates ? 

Or good or evil for each mortal waits 
Whether we pray or curse or passive bide. 

Yet when the grave-sods our beloved hide, 

Our being all its powers dedicates 

To wring from that dread hand which arbitrates, 
Some miracle return them to our side. 

The whole sad soul dissolves into a prayer 
So mighty that it seems it could not fail. 
The eager spirit searches everywhere 

For avenues by which heaven to assail. 

We lose all self in plea beyond compare ; — 
And yet, of what avail, of what avail ! 



SONNETS IN SHADOW. 



IV. 



T T OW dreadful is the languor of the soul 

■*• -^ Which neither hopes nor fears, which has no care 

For great or small ; indifferent how fare 
Alike the highway's dusts, the stars that roll. 

When death takes love he takes at once the whole 
Life has of worth. Thereafter earth nor air 
Nor pearl-rich sea can longer anywhere 

Give to the desolate or joy or dole. 

If it be morn or noon or amber eve, 

If sun or moon or cloud possess the sky. 
If foes be kind, if trusted friends deceive, 

If fortune load with gifts or pass us by, — 

What does it matter? What should glad or grieve 
Now that indifferent the loved doth lie ? 



SONNETS IN SHADOW. 



'"PHERE is such power even in smallest things 
■*■ To bring the dear past back ; a flower's tint, 
A snatch of some old song, the fleeting glint 
Of sunbeams on the wave, — each vivid brings 

The lost days up, as from the idle strings 
Of wind-harp sad a breeze evokes the hint 
Of antique tunes. A glove which keeps imprint 

Of a loved hand the heart with torture wrings 

By memory of a clasp meant more than speech ; 
A face seen in the crowd with curve of cheek 
Or sweep of eyelash our woe's core can reach. 

How strong is love to yearn and yet how weak 

To strive with fate, the lesson all things teach, 
As of the past in myriad ways they speak. 



SONNETS IN SHADOW. 



"T^EATH so brings all life's standards unto naught 
■"-^ That joy, in dismal paradox, brings pain, 
And sorrow pleasure ; joy is void and vain 
When it but stabs the heart with bitter thought 



Of one who may not share it. Woe is fraught 
At least with the remembrance that this bane 
Hurts not the dead, till we, heart-sick, are fain 

Give thanks that death to them has respite brought ; 

While joy so cruel is, no pang is spared 

In memories of bliss our hearts have known. 
Bitter it is to bear a grief unshared ; 

But bitterer to meet our joys alone. 

Once only for the bliss of life we cared ; 
In desolation bliss makes sharpest moan. 



SONNETS IN SHADOW. 



VI. 



T X fE know the tales of death, whose measures run 
* ^ On drowned sailors, lying lank and chill 
Under the sirupy gi-een wave ; and still, 
White maids, to whose beds fleshless death has won, 

Instead of love ; the fair, pale bride undone 
By the dread ravisher, while yet no ill 
Had marred her joy ; dotards whose years fulfil 

A century, to end as they begun : 

But who of all the dead is dead to us 

Until fate smites our own? Or maid or bride, 
Dotard or mariner, though dolorous 

His dying be, 't is as a dream beside 

The fiery reality when thus 
Death's very self enters where we abide. 



SONNETS IN SUA now. 



VII. 

T F it should be we are watched unaware 

-^ By those who have gone from us ; if our sighs 

Ring in their ears ; if tears that scald our eyes 
They see and long to stanch ; if our despair 

Fills them with anguish, — we must learn to bear 
In strength of silence. Howso doubt denies 
It cannot give assurance which defies 

All peradventure ; and if anywhere 

Our loved grieve with our grieving, cruel we 

To cherish selfishness of woe. The chance 
Should keep us steadfast. Tortured utterly, 

This hope alone in all the world's expanse 

VVe clutch forlornly ; how deep love can be, 
Griefs silence proving more than utterance. 



SONNETS IN SHADOW. 



VIII. 

T T OW absolute the solitude death brings. 
•*- -*■ Though by the heartless insolence of fate 

Life still goes on ; though friends compassionate 
About us throng, — the heart so strongly clings 

Unto the past's perfect companionings 

That all the world seems void and desolate. 
Once e'en the waste we walked in kingly state , 

Since our loved shared in thought our journeyings : 

Now vacant are alike the thronging street 

And those familiar rooms where memory 
Pictures that presence still which used to greet 

Our steps returning. Empty utterly 

The universe for us, if faith, more fleet 
Than doubt, outrun not cold uncertainty. 



BONNETS IN SHADOW. 



IX. 



T7VER for consolation grief is told 

-■— ^ How worse might be, and woe be heaped on woe, - 

As if the present pain were softened so, 
Made less by fancied evils manifold. 

Would the impoverished diver be consoled, 

When from his hand the pearl, like melting snow, 
Slips to plunge darkling in the tide below. 

That the void shell has not escaped his hold? 

When love has from our longing arms been torn, 

What boots it if the empty world we grasp ? 
To those who this supreme bereavement mourn 

It little matters what woe follows fast ! 

The worst that fate can do already borne. 
The very meaning of such dread is past. 



SONNETS IN SHADOW. 



X. 



/^NE might endure the day, wear out the night ; 
^^ It is the morning hour that wrings the heart, — 
When from fair dreams that lulled our pain we start, 
And find the world dissolved in misty light. 

While far aloof the day-star glitters bright, 
As 't were the loved one's soul which draws apart 
From whispering us in sleep. How keen the smart 

Of meeting life afresh, the bitter fight 

With grief renewing ; while, glad with the day, 

The birds sing in sheer bliss to be alive, 
The winged breeze crisps the trees into spray 

Of verdant waves that lisp like wort-rubbed hive 
Of gold-girt bees ; and night we cannot stay, 
Or hush the jocund noise, howe'er we strive ! 



SONNETS IN SHADOW. 



XI. 



npHE best of friends, if fate their ways doth part, 
■■■ Grow strange through severance of their daily round. 
New interests hold them ; one by one are found 
Hopes they share not together ; and though heart 

To heart still cling, no longer the same smart 

They feel, no more with the same joyance bound. 
The union once like concord of sweet sound 

Does separation mar with cunning art. 

When this we note, the bitter doubt is born 

If death's division shall work ruin so 
In love's communion ; if each weary morn 

Finds us remoter from the heart we know. 

Ah, cruel fate, if e'en the hope forlorn 
Of unseen friendship needs must fail our woe ! 



SONNETS IN SHADOW. 



T 1 7HATEVER faith believe, still is out-run 
* * This pleasant earth-life which love made so sweet. 
Though we again in other worlds shall meet, 
This joyousness forevermore is done. 

Life there may be more fair ; more bright the sun. 
More fragrant meads in which shall stray our feet. 
Love's blisses linger long and sorrows fleet ; 

But howso rich in joys that future, none 

Can soothe our present pain, when hand seeks hand 

And finds it not ; when that dear voice is stilled 
Scarce needed word to make us understand 

The heart's best secrets ; when that smile which filled 

The world with light, the glance which could command 
Our soul's best use, relendess fate has chilled. 



SONNETS IN SHADOW. 



XII. 



'"P HOUGH faith be dead, yet will our hope outrun 
-*■ Even the grave's doubt with triumphant might, 
To reach some Devachan forever bright 
AVhere all earth's wrong and anguish are undone ; 

Where as some awful star, dual though one, — 

Two throbbing heart-fires in one sphere of light, — 
Does soul with soul beloved so unite 

As they had ne'er been two since time begun. 

What were the clasp of hand by hand, of eye 

The glance to eye, even of lip on lip 
The holy rapture, with such bliss to vie ? 

Ah, though this be illusion fate will strip 

Full soon, an hour it lifts us to the sky, 
And with the gods gives us full fellowship ! 



SONNETS IN SNA DO IV. 



XIII. 



TXT" HEN from all smallest trifles we have spun 
^ ^ Those threads as strong as steel, though cobweb 
fine, 
Which bind us each to each, and thus divine 
Made homely cares, to know such living done 

Brings weariness of all beneath the sun. 
Infinite tasks are now those toils combine 
To make our days ; we hate those coils intvvine 

To hamper, when we swift life's course would run. 

All duties, hovve'er dull, we patient bore, 

Since their use served our love ; but now they tease 
Our very soul with importunings sore. 

Even the stripes of fate sting less than these 

Gnat-bites of circumstance, which evermore 
Rankle with venom nothing can appease. 



SONNETS IN SHADOW. 



"^/ET is there blessing even in the fret 
-*■ Of petty tasks, their ministry to save 
The thoughts from deeps of woe, as from the wave 
Thorns lift the wretch who, falling, holds them yet 

Despite their sting. A moment we forget 
Our grief for teasing cares ; as to a slave 
A queen might give a thought denied the brave, 

Since on her path intrusive feet he set. 

When all life's bliss could the bereaved heart 

From its deep, brooding woe never beguile. 
The homely round of life draws us apart 

From sorrow's drear absorption, and awhile 
We are unconscious of the burning smart. 
Toil only life and grief can reconcile. 



SONNETS IN SNA DO IV. 



XIV. 

TT is to-morrow and to-morrow still, 

-*■ And yet again to-morrow that our peace 

Shall come once more ; that time shall bring surcease 
From pain, and rest the yearning bosom fill ; 

While ever is to-day a brooding ill 

Which shuts us in : and life finds no release 
From its numb ache and terror, while decrease, 

To fight despair, the energy and will. 

To-morrow, still to-morrow, while to-day 
Ever of waning hope tells by its gloom. 
That sweet mirage, to-morrow, fades away 

Till it is distant as the morn of doom. 

We chase it alway with no power to stay, 
Since there is no to-morrow save the tomb. 



SONNETS IN SHADOW. 



XV. 



T X 7ITH dulcimer, citole, and psaltery, 
' ^ Tabor and pipe, and all the gauds of joy, 
Has Love been painted, a soft, wanton boy 
Dear to the nymphs and satyrs rude with glee. 

They who in sorrow sit more truthfully 

Know Love the sable-winged, strong to destroy 
All Hfe's illusions ; mighty to employ 

The soul's best powers ; noble, pure, and free. 

The rosy cherubs, like light butterflies, 

Vanish with gloom ; while night with flame enspheres 
The love which is immortal whoso dies. 

He shows the soul the angels as its peers ; 

Above the present bids the thought arise ; 
And slakes the heart's thirst from his cup of tears. 



SONNETS IN SHADOW. 



XVI. 

T^ VER is new, however old, despair. 
■^^ The weary toiler to his load, the nun 

To her strait cell, grow wonted ; one by one 
We tire of joys and wear out all things fair. 

But sorrow is immortal. From the glare 
Of flames it seems to die in, toward the sun 
It springs new-born, its Phoenix-course to run. 

Its blight and shadow follow everywhere, 

Fire in hot, blinding day, but double gloom 

In darksome night. Where may one flee or hide 
From its approach, as terrible as doom ? 

In all the shores found by the searching tide 

There is no hope, save it be in the tomb, — 
Oh, do our loved in safety there abide ? 



SONNETS IN SHADOW. 



XVII. 



A S flower- soft Moorish girls, who circling dance 
"^*- Like dusky moths about the torch's flame ; 

Or as fierce bearded Goths no man might tame, 
Striking their clanging shields with brazen lance, 

Once memories came, desire's impassioned trance 

Awaking, or inspiring thirst for fame. 

But where we sit to weep, with steps of shame, 
In charnel cerements wound, they now advance 

Like shapes dragged from their tombs. However fair 
They once have been, the grave-taint mars them aU ; 
Their hollow tones are keyed but to despair. 

Could we forget when on the coffin fall 

The leaden clods, time might our woe outwear : 
Would God that memory shared the loved one's pall ! 



SONNETS IN SHADOW. 



\7ET loss were double loss did we forget. 
-*■ Who once has loved begrudges not to pay, 
Since needs must be, with ache of heart alway 
For love's divine ; and thus the seal is set 

That marks his passion true. The sun lives yet, 
When night's black ruin has o'ervvhelmed the day ; 
And death, which claims the loved one, cannot slay 

Love, the immortal. Are not our eyes wet ? 

If we no longer loved why should we weep ? 
Since still we love, we bless that memory 
Which makes love possible and strong and deep. 

Bitter the fruit we pluck from memory's tree, 

And yet its acrid husks a kernel keep 
Sweeter than honey of Hymettian bee. 



SONNETS IN SHADOW. 



XVIII. 

T IKE to a coin, passing from hand to hand, 
^-^ Are common memories, and day by day 

The sharpness of their impress wears away. 
But love's remembrances unspoiled withstand 

The touch of time, as in an antique land 

Where some proud town old centuries did slay. 
Intaglios buried lie, still in decay 

Perfect and precious spite of grinding sand. 

What fame or joy or sorrow has been ours. 

What we have hoped or feared, we may forget. 
The clearness of all memory time deflours. 

Save that of love alone, persistent yet 

Though sure oblivion all things else devours. 
Its tracings firm as when they first were set. 



SONNETS IN SHADOW. 



XIX. 

T N our remembrances one poignant thought 
"*■ Will haunt us still, as may some single note 

Wail from the horns, then murmur from the throat 
Of hautboys sad, and yet again be caught 

By shrilling viols, with all passion fraught ; 

Now high, now low, now near, and now remote, 
Over the tide of sound seeming to float, 

As all without that tone must come to naught. 

How deep is woe if memory's key-note be 

Not sweet, but sad with wrong's remembered ache. 
Lost joy we weep, but what repentant plea 

From memory of wrong the sting can take ! 
The weight of grief may not crush utterly. 
But with remorse the bravest heart must break. 



SONNETS IN SHADOW. 



XX. 



T~\EATH in its amber sets the happy past 
^-^ With all its colors fair, like those bright flies 
That sunned their wings beneath the young world's 
skies, 
And still shine gem-like long as time shall last. 

Sorrows that might their shadow on love cast, 

Doubts that might blight, or griefs that might arise, 
Can mar it not. Safely enshrined it lies, 

Perfect forever, all its beauties fast. 

Though this be all, still is it much to hold 
The consolation of remembrance pure, 
That cannot fade, or alter or wax old : 

If this be earnest of some future sure, 

In what winged words can its high worth be told I 
Till all be known, our hearts can but endure. 



SONNETS IN SHADOW. 



II. 



T F like the torch flame which some Druid hoar 
-"■ Quenched in a sacrifice, the spirit dies 

When sense and seeing from the well-loved eyes 
Fade utterly, and every empty shore 

In all the desolate universe evermore 
Even to search of God himself denies 
Its shape or being, what can heart devise 

Of hope or comfort for its anguish sore ? 

There is no comfort save the bitter thought 

That we at least alone our sorrow bear ; 
That if the soul for which we yearn is naught, 

It cannot writhe in ever fresh despair 

That we are parted ; and that death has wrought 
On us alone this hurt beyond repair. 



SONNETS IN SHADOW. 



XXI. 

/^F all the myriad ways which lead to Hell 
^-^ The lowest deep seeks that through Paradise. 

For every by-gone bliss we must the price 
Of agony with no abatement tell. 

Of each dear love Fate keeps the tally well, 
And scores the cost with an exactness nice 
Beyond a Shylock's reckoning. No device 

Can cheat her avarice. The Sisters sell, 

Not give, their boons ; and dearly all men pay 

To utmost farthing for what seems a gift. 
Yet when grief brings of settlement the day, 

The heart none of its load of debt would shift ; 

Though sold to be the slave of woe alway. 
In love it glories at its own unthrift. 



SONNETS IN SHADOW. 



XXIL 

r T OW can we call this love which selfishly 

•^ -*■ Mourns its own pain ? Surely if love were true, 

So would it fill the soul as to undo 
All thought of self, how sharp soe'er pain be. 

How fares it with our dear loved dead, while we 
Are torn with anguish ? Do they suffer too, 
Thus to be parted? Does each morn anew 

Wake them to sorrow fresh ; each even see 

Them faint with separation's pain intense? 

How poor is love, when baffled thus we moan 
And reach them not, even by subtilest sense ; 

And poorer ftir, when our own woe alone 

Stifles the heart into indifference, 
Forgets to shudder at their griefs unknown. 



SONNETS IN SHADOW. 



XXIII. 

X^THO has not, smiling, in some happiest day, — 
^ ' Trifling with pain because so perfect seemed 
The present joy, the foolish heart esteemed 
It wise fate's jealousy thus to allay, — 

Said, " Love, should we be parted ! " and straightway 
Such stab of anguish felt, it might be deemed 
Already loss had come. Yet who has dreamed, 

Even with eyes dimmed so, what keen dismay 

And burning, blighting sorrow death can bring? 
" Should we be parted ! " murmur loving lips. 
But loving hearts still to the faith will cling 

That parting cannot be ; until death strips 

All its illusions from it, swallowing 
Comfort and faith ahke in bleak eclipse. 



SONNETS IN SHADOW. 



XXIV. 



T T THEN two souls have been truly blent in one, 
^ ^ It could not chance that one should cease to be 
And one remain alive. 'T were falsity 
To all that has been to count union done 

Because death blinds the sight. Such threads are spun 
By dear communion as e'en the dread Three 
Cannot or cut or disentangle. Sea 

From shore the moon may draw ; but two drops run 

Together, what may separate ? What thought 

Touched but one brain ? What pulse-beat, faint or 
high, 
Did not each heart share duly? There is naught 

In all we do or dream, from lightest sigh 

To weightiest deed, by which we are not taught 
We live together and together die. 



SONNETS IN SHADOW. 



VT'ET is the time so long, so long, so long ! 
-■■ And all the wiles by which we would persuade 
Our hearts to think it short are idly made. 
With leaden feet the bitter-hearted throng 

Of moments pass us, each a new, slow wrong. 
We fear no pang that may the life invade, 
But of the lagging days we are afraid, 

And shrink as slaves cringe from the stinging thong. 

We did not dream, until grief made us wise. 

Such vasts of time could stretch between day's eve 
And dew-wet morn. Never can joy surmise 

How long are sorrow's hours. Clocks deceive 

With formal count that mocks in specious lies : 
Time's measure truly know but those who grieve. 



SONNETS IN SHADOW. 



III. 



r\ FT death looks fair before our fevered eyes 
^-^ As the rose-garden of the Niblung queen, 

Which glowed so jewel red and white and green ; 
But like the silken twine unto that prize 

Sole barrier, a film of doubt denies 

Us entrance. Slender till it scarce is seen, 
It yet is strong as wall of steel between 

Our life which is and what in darkness lies. 

Though even hope be lost, there is the chance 

Our loved may live, the thought our loved may know. 
Restrains from desperate self- deliverance. 

It is not dread of death or unknown woe, 

But lest they, watching with love's vigilance, 
Should see our deed and be heart-wounded so. 



SONNETS IN SHADOW. 



XXV. 



A S some flame-crooked, venomed Malay blade 
■^^^ Writhes snake-like through a dusky woman's side, 

Its film of poison deep within to hide. 
Does sorrow pierce, life's inmost to invade ; 

While human comfort would our hearts persuade 
That in the hand of Time doth balm abide. 
Shall time our hearts from the old love divide ? 

Vain were a hope could so our faith degrade. 

What have we left save fealty alone ? 

Shall we to Time this jewel yield, which yet 
Vows of a faith eternal made our own? 

The drop most bitter in woe's beaker set 

Is doubt of our soul's firmness : he has known 
Griefs sharpest who has feared he may forget ! 



SONNETS IN SHADOW. 



A ND yet is Time a mighty angel, strong 
•^^ For noble uses, who shall teach the soul 

That bliss is not of life the noblest goal. 
He who, woe-blind, staggers with love along 

Like a corpse-bearer, does it cruel wrong, 

And thrusts on his beloved dead, whose whole 
Desire to bless, the curse to be his dole. 

Love that is true, above the trivial throng 

Of hopes and fears, even o'er joy and pain, 

Lifts the soul up to duty's awful height. 
From sorrow's gloomy vales, who loves shall gain 

The holy hills, led onward through griefs night 

By love's white star, that steadfast doth remain 
To draw him upward by its heavenly light. 



SONNETS IN SHADOW. 



XXVI. 



TX 7HEN souls new-born in darkness of the tomb 
^ * Soar up ethereal unto loftier spheres. 
It scarce can be that earthly hopes and fears 
Cheer them or cumber longer. Though our doom 

Keep us intent on shadows in life's gloom, 
To them the light of truth in glory nears. 
That still our souls and theirs may walk as peers, 

That glow immortal must our sight illume. 

Let us no more watch phantoms ; on the fleet, 

Vain shows of life no longer fix our eyes. 
Toward eternal truth be set our feet. 

Until to theirs our lofty pathway rise ; 

For spirit-pure companionship be meet, 
And hold our way with theirs along the skies. 



SONNETS IN SHADOW. 



A S dying Roland to God solemnly, 
"^^- At awful Ronceval, lifted his glove 

Crimson with pagan gore, must we, above 
All petty passions, the heart steadfastly 

Hold up on high, all bleeding though it be 

From sorrow's wounds. By memory of the love 
Which has been ours, — though hope, like the ark's 
dove. 

Return no more, — all consecrate are we: 

The heart which once such love as we have known 

Has touched, forevermore is dedicate 
To holy use ; as when some god has shown, 

By portent high, the stone decreed by fate 

To be his shrine. No more it is our own : 
It is an altar where we humble wait. 



SONNETS IN SHADOW. 



XXVII. 



T X TE must be nobler for our dead, be sure, 
^ ^ Than for the quick. We might their living eyes 
Deceive with gloss of seeming ; but all lies 
Were vain to cheat a prescience spirit-pure. 

Our soul's true worth and aim, however poor. 

They see who watch us from some deathless skies 
With glance death-quickened. That no sad surprise 

Sting them in seeing, be ours to secure. 

Living, our loved ones make us what they dream ; 

Dead, if they see, they know us as we are. 
Henceforward we must be, not merely seem. 

Bitterer woe than death it were by far 

To fail their hopes who love us to redeem ; 
Loss were thrice loss that thus their faith should mar. 



SONNETS IN SHADOW. 



"VT'ET if it were not so, nor anywhere 
■*■ In all the universe lived on that soul 
Which had for us been all, — while stars still roll 
And the sun shines nor is the world less fair 

Though all their use is done, — still were our care 
To be what love believed us. Bliss or dole 
Were naught beside the longings which control 

Heroic hearts. Shut in by grim despair, 

Still is there left for them the high emprise, 

The flattery of love to justify. 
Despite the weight of woe forbids to rise. 

They strive, brave though forlorn, to soar so high 

Love's honor is unsmirched in all men's eyes, 
Since they make true its most exacting lie. 



SONAETS IN SHADOW. 



XXVIII. 

T IFE chooses pain, the sole inheritance 

-"-^ To all her children doled. What mother so 

A birthright that was evil could bestow ? 
Dull savage women brave the worst mischance 

To shield their babes ; and brutes will fight the lance 
That threats their cubs, be they however low. 
Against the mother-love all creatures show, 

To count man born of hate were dissonance. 

Ah, Mother mystical ! May it then be 

That pain, which seems so terrible a gift. 
Is the best blessing we could take from thee ? 

A little might the thought the darkness lift ; 

It were a light by which the way to see 
As when the moon breaks through the storm-cloud's rift. 



SONNETS IN SHABOIV. 



XXIX. 

(~\a, egotism of agony ! While we 

^-^ Weep thus sore-stricken, filling earth with moan, 

The feet of those we love, through ways unknown, 
Brought into lands of living light may be. 

E'en our tear-blinded eyes can dimly see 

What heights are reached by sorrow's paths alone. 
Where heavenly joy and radiance shall atone 

For gloom and woe have held us utterly ; 

And sure our dead, loftier of soul, and now 

Free from the weakness human sight doth mar, 
Must death with power and vision new endow. 

If we, blind, groping, feel the truth afar. 

They wear its very radiance on their brow. 
Death takes a rush-light, but he gives a star ! 



LENVOL 



SONNETS IN SHADOW. 



JDUT what are empty words, when all is said, 

To voice the woe which is too wide for speech/ 
After the inexpressible we reach, 
And compass it no more than we the dead 

Call back. As once to joy our thoughts they led, 
Now need of patietice all the sad days teach; 
Still, '■'■Patience — patience — patience/''^ murmurs 
each, 

And ever: ^'■Patience, since all Joy is fled." 

Grief needs no proof; words cannot cure its smart. 

When it has striven to pour to the lees 
Its infinite of woe, the tortured heart. 

Panting from vain attetnpts its load to ease. 

Covers its lips, and steals away apart, 
There to sit silent with its memories. 



SOA^A'ETS IN SHADOW. 



11. 



f^H, iJioii whose precious meiuory needs no speech 
While love which follows it none can impart, 
If these poor words may find thee where thou art. 
What they would say, but cannot, needs must reach 

Thy being's core. The grief which moans in each 
And chokes its own best utterance, the smart 
That stings beyond all tellings thy true heart 

M'^ill to itself with faultless prescience teach. 

Small meaning may they to all else transmit ; 

But thou wilt in them seem to touch my hand 
And seek my glance to C7ire the woe in it. 

Evefi though tears be unknowft in that land, 

Thine eyes must fill, since, reading what is W7'it, 
What is not written thou wilt understand / 



